The Otherside of Life
by lezonne
Summary: After being recruited by a bizarre muggle agency that is determined to catch a murder that hops between the muggle and magical words, Draco decides to rope Hermione into the equation just to get under her skin. But what will international travels do to their relationship? Warnings inside! DISCONTINUED


**Timeline**: Three years after the end of the war. Begins early 2002 in the Spring.

**Genre: **Romance/Mystery/Suspense/Adventure/Horror

**Main Characters:** Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Harry Potter

**Secondary/supporting Characters: **Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Marcus Flint, Daphne Greengrass, Pansy Parkinson, Ginny Weasley

**Warnings: **There will be quite a bit of violence in this story, as well as graphic scenes about murdered victims (borderline horror, see above), character death, angst, snarky comments, underhanded remarks, smut, foul/dirty language, traveling and it will be** long.**

**Summary: **Someone from the muggle world finds out Draco is a wizard and recruits him for a dangerous task, holding leverage over his head. With his knowledge on muggles limited, he turns to an old enemy for aid, promising her something she can't refuse.

* * *

**A/n**: Here's a new story idea. I think I'm going to run with it. I'm not entirely certain how it's going to go but I'm trying it out, so please leave some feedback to help me along :) This plot is a lot more challenging than I first predicted. There's no beta as of yet, but if this continues I'll definitely have to find someone/use one of my current beta's :D

* * *

"You think I'm going to listen to the likes of _you_?"

He was pissed, that much was obvious. Waking up bound to a chair unable to move can do that to a person. He would use his wand to get him out of this situation that is if it were by his side. Even wandless magic proved useless in this moment, and he initially wondered what kind of trickery this was to render a wizard helpless. He quickly discovered just what was going on.

"You heard me," the woman in front of him said, grinning devilishly down at him. Her slicked back hair and too-tight bun gave her an older look, one that did nothing to help against the age lines on her face. Her tweed suit was nothing to get excited about, and it happened to be one of the most matronly outfits he'd even seen. Right from the start, he knew this was going to be bad for him. "I need a spy."

"I'm not spying on my own kind," he replied, rolling his eyes. The gash in his head from the initial onslaught stopped bleeding ages ago, but it was still tender whenever he moved his eyebrows. He attempted to not do so while speaking to her. "You're absolutely insane."

"I'm not insane Draco," she cooed, walking around the chair, "I'm merely looking out for everyone's best interests."

It started about a month ago, when he really began seeing that something was wrong. His job at Malfoy Incorporated cushioned his livelihood, as though it wasn't good enough already. With the turnaround of the war he might not be everyone's favorite guy, but it didn't stop him from making money. Generous investments into simpleton ideas proved that he had intentions to help people overall, as well as continue to grow his surplus amount of money. He was on top of the stock market, money flying in from every direction to inflate his ego. Malfoy might not be anyone's favorite person, but that didn't mean they could get on without him. There were a lot of people in Britain- as well as other European countries- that depended on his investments to make a living. People didn't favor him, but they tolerated and respected him. And of course, the endless amounts of money brought all types of people to his door, both wanted and unwanted.

And then things took a toll. Realistically he should've seen that something was wrong a long time ago, but he didn't put too much thought into it. Even three years after the fall of Voldemort people were still running free, trying to push their eccentric ideas on others who did not follow the man's footsteps. Escapee Death Eater's and those never caught still prowled through Britain and neighboring countries undetected, their clock of freedom ticking down by the hour until they would finally be caught. It still scared some people out there how many were still never found after Voldemort's demise.

Murders, they weren't uncommon, but every time he read about someone new being killed it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Money could not drown out the memories of war, nor could it shadow the memories that lingered in the depths of his mind. Cash fulfilled the greed inside his chest, but not the contempt that he needed outside. To let go of something meant to accept it, and he couldn't forget his past.

But now greed and prejudice were taking on a whole new meaning. He kept a circle of friends around him since school, the regal Purebloods who never once faltered in their quest for absolute power. They were monarchs really, living in the highest buildings in Britain, drowning in money. They were all the same people he'd associated with when he was young, the bigoted egos and prejudice minds still remaining inside their heads. Some of them swayed against the changes the war brought, giving in towards equality instead of supremacy. They kept to most of their ways, but changed as much as needed to still fit into society.

Draco was at the head of his social circle, the most talked about of them all. Maybe it had to do with his father receiving the kiss only one day after being sent to Azkaban, even before his hearing. The lack of emotion displayed on his face when he found out shocked many bystanders, who for a long time believed that Lucius was a relic in Draco's eyes. The carelessness towards his father's death turned people on their heads, making them wonder. Or maybe it revolved around his mother's flamboyant willingness to jump ship and run off with a new man to France only two weeks after the event. He was the most talked about because his life currently held the most interest. The others led much calmer lives.

Blaise Zabini, at the mere age of twenty was already wed to Daphne Greengrass. The pair seemed happy together, and their combined fortunes made them a force to be reckoned with. They were classy, favorited, and admired by the people of Britain and all the other countries they visited because they were so filthy rich, but had a gentle undertone about them. Of his supreme friends, they came off as the most human of them all.

Pansy Parkinson, who dipped her toes into the lake of temptation and dated a different boy every few days. She, much to Draco's and their friend's horror, had an on-again-off-again relationship going with Ron Weasley, the new superhero of Quidditch. What she saw in the freckled man was a mystery to everyone, when Pansy was so very uptight and picky about most everything. His table manners left a lot to be desired, but something about the star swayed her back to him after every other break-up. Her social life was pretty enthusiastic too, since the papers had a lot of fun reporting whenever the couple got back together. What seemed to surprise people most of all was the woman's willingness to be with a blood-traitor, someone she loathed so very much. There was a lot of speculation on that topic.

"You're looking out for your own best interests," he scoffed, eyeing the woman. His eyes drifted away from his questioner to the others lingering around the room, the shadows illuminated by poor light. None of them really wanted to show their faces, but he knew they were there, waiting for a slip up. He was the fish in a lake of sharks here, not the other way around. If he merely had his wand all the bastards in that room would be quaking in fear of him. But they had their little tricks and gadgets that prevented him from getting out through his strengths.

"Nonsense," she cooed, stepping up directly in front of him again to grip his chin. "It could help you too. I'm sure that your dear friend isn't doing so well these days, is she? What's her name again, Daphne?"

Draco's eyes darkened. Astoria, yet another one of his friends, was murdered only a few months before in cold blood. It reminded him of something from the horror books he once read, when malicious deeds like rape and torture came into play. The body was found four days after what was predicted to be her death, beheaded with flesh missing in different places.

The Aurors suspected that the torture curse was used many times on her.

Forensic Scientists in the department above knew that the kill-point was when her head was sliced off due to a muggle blade.

Investigators found different nails around her body and predicted that she tried to crawl away from her captor, breaking them off as she tried.

No one found signs of rape. No one could predict a motive. It was as though she was killed for nothing more than sport, tortured for no apparent reason until her head was severed. There were people still around questioning about that matter.

At center stage stood Draco and his circle of friends, the people who seemed likeliest to commit a brutal torture on the woman, in a house that was deeply warded. She'd been dragged from her house, the flecks of blood speckling different pieces of furniture and replaced elsewhere. A house that no one could break into, save her friends.

Draco was out with Blaise and Daphne the night it happened, confirmed to have been at a restaurant in a different city. Pansy was out and about with her boy-toy Ron, annoying her friends at the time and also had an alibi so to speak.

Marcus Flint, a man who graduated several years before they did but who spoke often to Blaise was confirmed to have been out with some friends, otherwise occupied. Marcus on many counts could be considered more of a womanizer than Draco, lacking the desire to feel bad about all the girl's who slept with and then disappointed the following day when he made it clear that this was only a one night stand. He was rich, bigoted and cruel on many counts, but he wasn't the killer.

Theodore was away in Australia the night of the murder. He had a girl confirm his whereabouts the night of and several days after the murder. Theo Nott, unlike so many of his friends, found international trades to quite suit his lifestyle. He associated with business associates all over the world, heading a business his father left behind. Nott, although a pig on many counts who had even less tolerance for people than Draco did, managed fairly well for himself. Although he had a reputation that preceded him, people seemed to look over his flaws more so than they ever did Flint's of Malfoy's.

The tragedy was a bit too much for Daphne, who shrank in on herself for quite some time. Greif ridden, even Blaise had a difficult time getting her to speak, and it was only with the mention of rehab that she decided to talk again, if only to avoid being put in a place like that. Blaise loved his wife and wouldn't do anything for her that wasn't necessary, but Daphne loved Astoria, and her sister was now dead. There was a whole in her chest left behind by the absence of the snarky woman, and a pooling landfill of anger that was just waiting for the right time to explode. Daphne was a ticking time bomb now, biding her time until the killer was discovered. Then, oh then the killer would have some serious issues to handle.

Usually, the case would be set aside if nothing came up after several months, but that was not the case this time. Only about three weeks after Astoria's murder, a muggle was reported to have been killed in the same horrendous way. It caused an uproar in the magical world.

There were just boundaries you never crossed, and using magic to kill a muggle was one of them. The war was over, and the tyranny of Voldemort was gone. People didn't get away with that type of shit anymore.

Someone was breaking all the laws, and doing a pretty good job of avoiding being caught. With the muggle killing sitting heavily on Aurors and investigators a like working on the case, it remained opened so that the mystery murderer would hopefully be caught soon.

And now this blasted woman had him here at her '_secret_' location going on about how he could put a stop to this madness. Problem was she knew a little too much for her own good and was stepping into dangerous waters. She thought she had the upper hand because he was bound, because his wand was elsewhere and they had some crazy gadget that kept him from using wandless magic, but she was wrong.

_He_ still had to say yes, _he_ still had to agree to this baloney,_ he _still had to accept her offer. Of course, it was more of a threat than an offer.

"I admire your feeble attempts to sway me with into doing your bidding by mentioning my friends," he said, rolling his eyes, "But I won't spy on my own kind, as I told you. Just because one of us is rogue doesn't mean we all are."

"You're all a danger," she spat, shaking her head as she began to pace. "But I am not here to exterminate your race. We might be against your existence, your abilities, and the wretched black magic you produce, but we are not standing before you as the enemy, but as your friends."

"Yes, my friends continuously bind me to chairs and try to extract answers from me when I refuse to give any," he hissed, glaring her direction. She ignored the heated look.

"We did what we must to get you to listen, Mr. Malfoy," she replied, turning to face his as she rested her fingertips together. "You did not break easily."

"Was I expected to?" he retorted. "I thought you were looking for someone with _thick skin_."

"We are," she agreed, eyeing him, "And that's one of the reasons you've been picked for the job. We did our research, we set _our_ spies and watched the lot of you, and now we've picked our person. You are the epitome of what we need."

"I'm no different from any other witch or wizard you could've snatched," he defended, flexing his fingers. She noticed this and leisurely wandered to a table nearby where a collection of blades sat. He tensed watching her fingers dance over the sharp objects, and the single gun there- an item he'd only just learned about. All the items for torture sat right there, just to his left, waiting to be used. Yet no one had attempted to carve into him yet.

"But in many ways you are," she argued, picking up a blade to finger it. "Rich, highly ranked in society, with affiliations across Europe. You get around."

"I make money," he countered. "That has nothing to do with murder."

"I never said it did," she retorted, grinning his way. "But that isn't the reason you're here. You make money, yes, and I'm sure it sits in your bank accounts unused because you have too much. No, my interest here is on your social standing, and your business."

"Which neither have to do with murder," he countered again.

"No, but they make the perfect spy." She turned around wandering away from him. "What better way to get you inconspicuously on a search than by having it be over something you love, like money? Now that's a buyable story."

"I'd still have to agree to it, and from the looks of things, it doesn't seem like I'm going to _buy_ into any of this. Muggles should stay where they belong, interacting with _other_ muggles. Likewise, we wizards will keep to yourselves as well."

"But you're _not_ keeping to yourselves!" she hissed, turning back. "One of you has gone off the deep end and is now killing our people! We won't conform to that agreement until you do as well. Considering that none of your leaders want to seek out us in an effort to settle things, then I see no reason to make agreements like that with someone as miniscule as you."

"And here I thought I was important," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "The Minster wouldn't waste his time with such affairs. He has a killer to worry about, and a country to put back together. Insignificant letters from muggles aren't something he's going to dabble with. He probably things its something that got lost in the mail and threw it out."

She threw her hands up. "Do none of you look at anything!? That was important!"

"Interesting that it got there at all considering that you didn't use an owl," he muttered, looking at the woman. "Would you let me go? I was under the impression that this was something I had a say in."

"You'd really let the blackmail go?" she said, cocking an eyebrow.

He said nothing to that, eyeing her through slitted eyes instead of speaking. She waited several moments, drinking in his silence. When she realized Draco was through listening to her, she backed up and spoke to one of the shadows people, the person's gender undiscovered. She returned barely a minute later, a few items drifting into her pockets.

"I'll release you now, but only if you give me your word that you won't attack me."

"With all the people watching me?" he asked. "I'd sooner die than get near you. They'd probably kill me with one of your little toys." He indicated with his head towards the pile of knives nearby, the gun at center stage.

"Well, maybe," she replied, grinning his way. Someone came up behind him and began undoing the ties, causing Draco to stiffen. He wanted nothing more than to be out of that place, but he also could not betray the uncertainty settling in his chest. Muggles were as foreign as America to him, and certainly something he didn't bother with. They could snap at any moment and shoot him dead, and he probably wouldn't even see it coming. Even the man behind him could kill him easily.

Fighting among peers was a strength of his as a school-boy, but real life self defense was something completely different. He might not even see it coming.

He stood on uncertain feet once released, fully glancing around the room as he got a good look at the place he was being held captive. They all kept to the shadows save this woman, who seemed to be the head of this organization- he could see why. She was headstrong and fucking annoying.

It was eerie to be escorted out of the place as though he'd done something wrong. Two people followed them out of this place, both male, though they kept trying to keep his eyes covered. He wasn't alright being blindly led around the place by a bunch of half-brained muggles, much less made to wait for his wand. Oh, once he discovered the trickery going on, he would have something to say about this place. He certainly intended to do something once he got his wand back.

Really, who kidnapped a Malfoy for Merlin's sake! He should have their heads, or something else juvenile. At least then their impression of him would be correct.

A breeze hit him, and he finally realized they were outside. The blindfold over his eyes was removed, and he turned back to glare at the two men. She cleared her throat though, and he reluctantly found himself turning back to the woman.

"We'll give you a week to think on it," she said, holding out his wand. He snatched it eagerly. "You can send us a response however you please. But do remember Mr. Malfoy that we do still have leverage on you."

"Blackmail," he scoffed, eyeing his newfound weapon.

"That won't work here," she remarked, following his gaze, "Not until you get another hundred feet away. And even then if you try to send a spell back this way it will be stalled. It's one of the pleasures of technology."

He wasn't so sure about this technology bullshit. "Whatever. A week then."

"Indeed," she said, stepping back so he could pass. He shouldered past her, ready to be away from this woman. "Don't forget."

"Trust me, I won't!" he spat, not bothering to turn back. If what she held over his head wasn't so troublesome he wouldn't even consider it, but it was, and it was rather hard to ignore.

Blackmail could sway even the strongest of men.

* * *

It was difficult to tell if everything had been a dream the following morning. He woke up in bed late, drowsy and confused. Nothing felt right and he was very on edge. His dreams were black, filled with nothing but an empty abyss. Usually, his dreams were quite vibrant.

Waking up after being held captive was like stepping back into reality. He could move on his own, defend himself, and tell everyone he pleased to fuck off now that he wasn't attached to that chair. That muggle woman remained a mystery, shrouded by a veil of mystery that hid her ability to capture him in the middle of wizarding London. He'd always been under the impression that muggles simply couldn't enter the wizarding world without first being permitted. How she did it with five other men to grab him was quite the spectacle.

Draco looked himself in the mirror, running tired hands over his face. She'd been outright determined to get him on her side, chasing down this mysterious killer as though he was a detective himself. But he wasn't one for snooping under circumstances like this, having only done so for meager things. Chasing down a killer who brutally murdered Astoria was something else entirely. He would be ruined if he was found out, his business based on filthy amounts of money and the concept that he was changing himself for the better after the war.

Supposedly he wasn't allowed to divulge any information into anyone, but he didn't really see that happening. First of all they might be spies who could deter the new world magic, but the ancient spells encrypted into the very foundation of his home were impenetrable by even wizarding standards. Their pretty little toys would never breech his threshold, and he was plenty confident in that.

Here, he could divulge the secrets of his embarrassing capture, something he would reshape while storytelling to make it sound far more heroic and far less pathetic. Blaise, Marcus, Pansy, he could tell any one of them about the quest set before him and how absolutely insane it all sounded. He could even tell them about the blackmail being held against his name.

Well, no, he would tell no one of that. And if he could just get the evidence back from that woman then he would never again have to worry about the bloody organization and their supposed motive.

Running a finger over his lip that morning, he thought about her. She'd been trying to scare him with the hints she dropped, hoping to sway him with the temptation of getting one of _his_ belongings back that he foolishly had with him one day. He didn't really like to utter her name.

_Tabitha. _Outside of that he didn't know her last name, middle, or origin. But she got under his skin, making him wish he could bind her mouth so she would never utter another word. She thought she was hot stuff, parading around that room as though she was queen of everything just because she had captured a wizard. If it were fair game and he was armed, he'd have her on her knees in a minute.

Tabitha, oh how he loathed her. She apparently headed that entire capture sequence, picking him for reasons that were still foggy in his mind. What she said couldn't be the entire truth, lest she would use Nott since his business exploits were already international. There was something fishy afoot and he intended on discovering what it was, since his name was on the line if anything got out. He'd lose quite a bit if this hit the papers.

He lit up before going to sit at his in-room desk, staring at the letters that he'd ignored once returning home early that morning. The cigarette tasted foul in his mouth but cured the crave for it deep down in his soul, where the addiction lay. Flipping through things he saw nothing of immediate importance and turned to the second pile that he'd set up labeled _personal._

Sometimes his friends sent him letters, and he would do the same. There was only one letter there that day that caught his attention, addressed from his longtime friend Pansy. He hadn't seen her in many days.

_Draco~_

_I request your presence today at noon. The same place as usual. I'd rather speak with Daphne about this but given her current mindset I've opted to leave both her and Blaise alone. We can even sit outside so you can smoke. _

_~Pansy_

The letter wasn't anything extraordinary, considering that Pansy often resorted to speaking to Draco himself or Theo or Marcus those days now that Daphne was left to grieve. He understood that she needed female friends since Millicent moved away to Germany barely a week after the war ended. It wasn't like they were the best of friends either.

He hit the cigarette, staring out the window. He had business to attend to before noon, a lunch date with Pansy, and the weight of the world sitting on his shoulders, revolving around his decision with the muggles. Who would've thought that after all the years of hating them, he'd be stuck corresponding with them?

* * *

"It's really quite alarming," Pansy said, sipping heavily at her wine. They'd opted to split the bottle, deciding hard liquor was a bit much for midday. But she apparently needed some form of tequila to calm herself, as she'd had a third of the bottle already, whereas Draco was still on his first glass. "I mean, we usually split up again in about a week! Thinking that it's peachy to move in together might be the downfall of us!"

Draco shrugged, lighting up again. The entire _I-date-Weasley_ topic alarmed him no matter the situation. "You've been going at the same routine with him for a year now. Perhaps he wants to figure out if this game the two of you play is worthwhile."

"But we'd be living at _my_ mansion with _my_ father! I mean, we could just move out, but I refuse to live in some hole-in-the-wall place that's smaller than my shoe closet!"

He studied the woman with a critical eye as she too another gulp of her wine, taking full advantage of their private balcony at the expensive restaurant. She did look quite troubled by the situation, as though an honest commitment never truly dawned on her. She didn't think that they could play this same game of cat and mouse forever without having to really declare their feelings, did she? That was one of the reasons Draco was thankful he had no long term girlfriends to be concerned about, nor any old long-lasting relationships to deal with. He'd never been in a long-term relationship.

"Have you talked about this with him at all?"

"Well of course now! He's smitten about the entire idea, and the second I say something he'll lose his head and storm out on me again."

"That quickly hmm? Seems a little rash."

"It is!" She threw her arms up, nearly tipping the glass over, and he was just able to keep it from tipping completely before taking it away. She was too worked up to hold anything.

"It's all his friends fault! Potter and Granger are having a spat once again, and I think he's concerned that they might actually break up this time. His sister is possibly the only sane one these days, and she married Finnegan!"

"So I've heard," he grumbled. "Just tell Weasley you're not ready or something."

"If I do that he'll just ask me when I will be ready."

"Say you'll never be ready?"

"Draco!"

"Sorry." He hit his cigarette again, looking off over the balcony. It was cool that day for it already being noon, but supposedly it would get sunny later. He wished it was sunny then so Pansy would give back his jacket.

"I don't know what to do."

"And you think I do? Pansy, I don't even do relationships. I do women."

"You've made that very clear," she snapped. "But you're supposed to be helping me Draco! Your better than Marcus about these things."

He chuckled at that, imaging the stricken look on Marcus' face if Pansy had asked this of him. Oh, he would certainly pay to see that. "That might be true, but I'm not a woman Pansy. I don't dabble in this relationship nonsense."

"Men do it too," she seethed, looking away from him. "I wish I could just speak to Daphne. She would have some compassion for me!"

"Maybe you should have some compassion for her," he remarked sadly, looking back to his friend. Her expression dropped and her arms went limp as she turned back to him. Her eyes were barren.

"Do you think they're going to catch him? You know, that boarder-hopper? The one that keeps fucking with the muggle world?"

"Maybe," the blonde grunted, uncomfortable with the topic change. This got him thinking about that blasted woman Tabitha again, and he didn't want that.

"I can't believe what he's done," she whispered, stirring her drink with the straw. "He's so… disgusting."

"There's no indication that it's a man," Draco defended, rolling his eyes. "It's only a guess that this murderer is a male. No one's actually seen him and lived through the experience."

"You're even calling it a boy," she remarked, grinning sadly. "It's habit I think."

"Probably," he replied, reaching forward to pat her hand when Pansy looked down, saddened by their topic. "They'll find the killer Pansy. Astoria's murder won't be in vain. Justice always comes at some point."

"Like what happened to us?" she challenged, looking up to meet his eyes again. "We partook in the wrong side of a battle, and now we're suffering from it."

"I wouldn't call it suffering," he remarked, cocking an eyebrow. "We live decent lives."

"But we're not at our peek! Had the war never taken place we'd be at the absolute top of society. People fear and loathe us now, but if things were slightly different we would also have respect! Could you imagine?"

"No," he spat, shifting in his seat, "I can't, because it's not our reality Pansy. That's a fantasy, one which will never be completely true. No one respects us, they simply fear us because we have power, and tolerate us because we're filthy rich."

"Maybe that's why Ron wants to live together," she grumbled, resting an elbow on the table. "He's got money on his mind."

The blonde bit his lip, unhappy to hear that speculation. If Weasley really was playing her for money, then he would have hell to pay the next time he was nearby. Nobody used Draco's friends like that.

Then again he was being used by nothing more than some low-grade muggles. He couldn't say much on that topic.

"Does he have a fascination with money?"

"He has a fascination with leisure," she replied, fingering her napkin with her opposite hand. "He wants to live a lavish life, filled with oogling fans of his Quidditch skills and loads of money to fall back on once his short career ends. He wants to have the ability to bathe in gold. Yes, I'd say he has a bit of a fetish with money."

"So he's greedy?" Draco said, summing up her statement in a simple sentence.

"Yes," she sighed, exasperated. "But I love him."

"Pansy, you don't make a whole lot of sense."

"I know, but it's not like I'm trying to. He's a complicated fellow."

"He's a harebrained twit who copied every essay he ever wrote off of Granger."

"Speaking of Granger," she said, rising up in her chair, "I think that's her down there."

"Excuse me?" He glanced over his shoulder, noticing that there was indeed a frizzy head of hair down below. Actually, there were many heads down below, everyone seemingly gravitating off to the left, the object of their desire hidden by some wilting plants. He stood and leaned over the side of the balcony, trying to figure out what was oh-so captivating. Pansy came to his side.

"We have to go down there!" she hissed, practically dragging Draco by the arm once she saw what was ahead. A person coated in red was stumbling down the street, drawing the attention of many. The two bystanders on the balcony were no exception.

"Get out of the way!" she spat immediately once they were outside the restaurant, the bill paid and over-tipped upstairs. She shouldered past people, keeping a hold of Draco's hand, letting him handle anyone who tried to confront them. No one did, and everyone seemed a bit too drawn into the current situation to worry about a pair of bigoted richies.

Getting to the bloodied man was not a problem. The man was a red dot within a pallet of black and white. Finding him was the easy part. Tolerating his appearance and the wretched stench on him was something else entirely.

It took several moments for Draco to realize it was Longbottom.

It took almost a minute after that to realize that Granger was directly next to the red body, crying.

And it took another moment to realize there were Aurors sprouting out of seemingly nowhere, taking off in the direction Longbottom's blood trail led.

This looked like another murder, which meant that the killer was back in London. It could be something offhand and unrelated to the killing spree committed by what Pansy called the boarder-hopper, or this could mean that the alleged murderer was circling back. Only a twisted fucker like that guy would let this bloodied man run off into the daylight, scaring an entire street into silence.

And what's more, he wasn't sure if it Longbottom was the only person involved. Wrapping an arm around Pansy's shoulders, he looked around for any signs of Granger's muck luck crew. Yet she appeared to be the only one.

Icy brown eyes looked up as she cradled her friend to her breast, trying to hold on as Aurors pulled her off, making way for the on-call Healer's arriving on scene. She looked up for someone to help as she was pulled away, held against the chest of a stranger while people swooped in around her friend, accessing the damage. Meanwhile the citizens stood by doing nothing as society often did, evaluating the scene instead of helping. Everyone seemed to be frozen in time.

Her eyes met Draco's briefly, and she seemed to stop her search there. Panicking as the events unfolded, Healers and Aurors coming out from a hidden area behind her body, she looked at him with eyes filled to the brim with hate. He wasn't entirely sure what made her embody such raw emotion in his direction, but she appeared quite vengeful.

"You!" she cried, pointing fingers at the blonde as the poor Healer tried to restrain her, "This is all your fault!"

* * *

He found it quite difficult to get into St. Mungo's later. After another serious of questions that'd he'd already been asked the authorities let him go, deciding that she was crazier than he was. Draco decided to take an immediate stop to St. Mungo's, needing to have a talk with that aggressive girl. Not only did she accuse him of something he obviously didn't do, but she also tried to attack him thereafter. He always knew Granger was a spitfire, but he didn't realize that she might just _spit _fire.

Usually he could bribe his way in anywhere, pulling out a hefty amount of money that got whoever he was near to do whatever he wanted. St. Mungo's was quite so swayable, but he found a southbound entrance and convinced the girl guarding there to let him in, even if it did go a bit further than he planned. Whatever, he'd gotten into the facility.

Finding Granger was easier than getting in. She was parked directly outside the emergency clinic, unable to go in because she wasn't direct family. Rumor had it that Longbottom with in there with Potter, but only Potter because of who he was. Stupid git got even more privileges than he did.

"Quite the stunt you pulled earlier," he remarked, alarming the girl who was gripping her hands tightly in front of the door. "Given that we haven't spoken in years, I wasn't quite prepared to be blamed for what happened to him. Quite the surprise."

She glared his way, the bun on her head having fallen out on one side. He suspected that happened during her quarrel with the Healer. She looked tired, frightened, and lost. That didn't mean that he was going to hold back his snarky remarks however. She was brazen enough to blame him outright for something he simply couldn't have done, so why should he be gentle on her?

"Longbottom looked pretty banged up. Some say he won't last the night."

"Don't say that!" she gasped, eyes widening. "He'll be fine!"

"Well, you're not on your game today Granger," he retorted, surprised she let so much emotion shine through so quickly. "A bit thrown off by what happened?"

"What are you doing here?" she spat, glancing around. The woman was unnerved, jumpy, and completely uncomposed. He'd never seen his classmate in a worse state of disarray, and expected this kind of emotional betrayal to only shine through if it was a matter based on Potter's or Weasley's life. Longbottom, though a friend, didn't seem to rank quite as high.

"Well, considering I just spent the last four hours being questioned by a bunch of half-witted buffoons who couldn't understand the simple fact that Parkinson has been my alibi for hours now while we sat at a restaurant, I thought I might come and confront you. What exactly is the big idea of calling me out like that? What have I done to you in the last three fucking years Granger?"

The woman straightened as much as she could on shaky legs, looking directly into his eyes. "It seemed unprecedented that you were there at that moment."

Draco's eyes flashed, and he resisted the urge to hit something. He got angry quite easily. "I'm a fucking human! I walk around you know! Just because I'm someplace doesn't mean that I'm guilty of anything. I could do the same shit to you the next time I'm out."

Hermione looked away, holding a hand to her head. "Malfoy, never mind. I have other things to worry about right now. I called you out because when Astoria died-"

"_Don't_ talk about Astoria," he hissed, stepping closer to her. "You think that after three years you can step back into my life and try to blame me for shit? Life doesn't work that way Granger! Just because I was asked about Astoria's death doesn't mean that I had anything to do with this fucked up situation. Pansy was asked as well, but you didn't go pointing fingers in her direction."

"Force of habit then."

His eyes flashed. "Force of- look, Granger, I don't really care if you're having problems, if you're sad or hysterical, or at all really. But don't put me in the middle of shit that I have nothing to do with. I have enough to handle without you throwing shit at me."

"Oh Malfoy," she spat, crossing her thin arms tightly over a well-blessed chest, "What could you possibly have to handle? The stock market that you've already overtaken or perhaps the latest female you've unfortunately roped in? Don't try to pretend that you have any real problems."

He thought back to his untimely interrogation and resisted the urge to throw that at her. He had plenty of problems, but she was too naïve to the problems of rich people to even understand. It would be a waste of time to try and get anything through her thick head. After all, she was blaming him for complete nonsense.

"Whatever Granger, I suppose it would be completely improper to belittle you whilst you sit here in turmoil, concerned about little Longbottom. Did Potter really get to cut ahead of you even though you were here first? What a shame."

Hermione ground her teeth together. "We are _not_ talking about Harry."

"Oh, so you two really are having another spat? I suppose Pansy did get her facts straight then. I can't say I'm surprised; he's been a right mess ever since Finnegan ran off with Weasley's sister. Must be strange to date someone one of your best friends has fucked."

"Would you be quiet!?" she seethed, irritated with his constant presence."You don't know anything about the situation!"

"I know that it gets under your skin whenever I talk about it," he countered, smirking. "And that's quite a bit of fun."

"Fuck off Malfoy," the woman said, leaning back against the wall. "You should just get out. You have no business here."

"Actually I do," he hissed, thinking on the spot. "I want to know about the damage done to Longbottom and anyone else involved. I'm quite curious to see if it's the same type of torture done to Astoria."

She cocked an eyebrow. "You're here investigating?"

_No, but it might appease Tabitha when I send in my rejection letter. Maybe she'll hold off on that blackmail bullshit. _

"Yes," he said, straightening his collar. "My friend was murdered for no apparent reason, and anything that can help discover the criminal is a worthwhile investigation in my book."

"I've been under the impression that you weren't close to Astoria," she challenged, cocking an eyebrow. "Or at least, that's what the papers say."

"You believe everything you read in those bullshit tabloids? My Granger, aren't we gullible."

"You seem to believe everything you read about me," she countered, glaring up at him. "Why can't I believe everything on you?"

"Because I'm no one's favorite," he snapped, waving a hand. "They try to make me look bad."

"Malfoy, that's completely-"

The woman stopped talking as the door to the emergency clinic opened, and he saw her spirits lift briefly. The short, balding man who peered around the doorframe seemed to seek her out, ignoring the towering blonde as best he could.

"Miss, you need to come with me."

Her eyes widened, and Draco cocked his head to the side, observing intently. "Is something… wrong with them? With her?"

_Her? And here I was thinking that it was just Longbottom. Silly me! If Longbottom was the only victim of the boarder-hopper then he wouldn't be alive to stumble around and scare people. I wonder who was the unfortunate other? Sounds like she's in worse condition than he is. _

"I need you to come with me," the man said again, extending a hand. She took it with shaky fingers, ignoring Malfoy the entire time as this mystery Healer led her away back into the emergency ward. Draco cocked an eyebrow, watching the pair disappear through the window of the door.

He wouldn't quarrel with her for that brief moment. He was all too familiar with losing someone he cared about; they all were.

* * *

**A/n: **So I can't begin to tell you where this idea came from, what it really is, or why it is here, just that it was stuck in my brain and I needed to get it out. So, here it is. If I continue it's going to be different from stories in the past.

This story will be updated every two to three weeks depending on how busy I am and how long/complicated/detailed chapters are. Chapter length varies from 7,000-8,000 words, another reason why there will be such a large gap in updates. I'll need the time to actually write that much, and busy bee's will need the time to actually read the chapters :) So I hope that works out for everyone!

Also, I want to make this story quite long and (attempt to) not drag it out with boring filler chapters like I've done with the first version of WWYG. It'll be a challenge that I'm setting for myself, which is a bit exciting. That being said, if you have any ideas for this story/ever have ideas please let me know! I'm determined to write something fairly good!

So let me know what you thought. I'm still trying to wrap my head around the whole thing and decide where I want it to go. Maybe it'll go nowhere… I'm not sure. I don't know yet how people will take it… so let me know!


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